Morgan's Travels
by Head Honchkrow
Summary: Morgan, a veteran, albeit conventional, trainer is pulled into a whole new type of adventure by a chance encounter with a unique girl. Not very good at summaries, etc. Please Read and Review; constructive criticism appreciated.


Yes, this is my first attempt at a fan-fiction. Constructive criticism would be appreciated (although I'd be happy with any reviews). Additionally, I know the name isn't very good, but I couldn't really think of anything.

The space underneath the story will be reserved for footnotes (where I need to explain something that would interrupt the flow of the story or aren't important enough to be included) and responding to reviews. If you see a '+', that means the explanation is at the bottom.

Disclaimer: Really, does anyone assume you own pokémon when you make a fan-fic? Anyway, to continue a long tradition of disclaimers;

I don't own pokémon.

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Morgan's Travels

Introduction Arc

Chapter 1: A Day amongst Many

"_A great trainer is a careful balance of flash and substance; too much focus on looking good and you'll never win the battle, but if you neglect the showmanship side of the fight, you'll never win the crowd." – Jonathon McArthur, former Pokémon Champion._

There was a slight ache in Morgan's right shoulder. The pain was strangely distracting, which he found odd considering his normal mind set during training. Perhaps he wasn't getting enough sleep these days. He wouldn't find that surprising considering the bizarre, incomprehensible dreams he'd been having over the past week. He couldn't recall any individual element of the dreams, not that this was strange. Normally his dreams had faded from his mind before he'd even awoken. In fact, simply remember emotion from the dreams was strange. Whenever he thought about them, a slightly unsettling chill ran through Morgan's body. There was something almost ominous about them. Something he couldn't put his finger and was all the more prominent for it.

The sound of rending wood brought him back to reality, giving him only a moment to dive out of the way of the falling branch.

"Oi! Watch what you're doing, Soze," he yelled at the honchkrow flying overhead. The bird landed, dropping his passenger off as well. The smeargle who'd been carried in its talons looked rather fatigued from the training. It could only have been half an hour since they'd began, but then again, Monet was Morgan's weakest team member when it came to straight out ability. He made up for it by taking initiative in battle and by having a move for nearly every occasion.

Morgan considered the performance of his two pokémon and the numerous holes going through the tree. The combo was rather evil and he'd love to try it out once he had the chance. Unfortunately, Morgan didn't get much experience in double battles or any of the more 'gimmicky' battle styles. Morgan specialized in straight 6 v 6 battles; bland but well covered with multiple tournaments every month and subsequently, lots of money to be won. Still, it did you good to get some variety in your life. Morgan had stomped around the same circuit of 9-10 cities for the last two years without ever actually exploring them, never staying in any single one for more than a week.

Not that he needed the money that much, considering the large stockpile he'd made through these tournaments. And even that was only to avoid relying on his mother, who still had her cushy scientist job working for Silph. Whilst he'd only truly admit it to himself, Morgan's tournament tours were a habit. A throwback to the days when he was a little more cynical and a lot lighter of pocket.

Morgan realized his pokémon were staring expectantly at him. Well, one of them was anyway. His mind was drifting again. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his critique was vague and unhelpful. Inadequate. He muttered something about Monet's attack pulling to the left, but his smeargle was obviously too concerned about the pain in his back. Or possibly lunch; smeargle were prone to becoming obsessed. Normally, they became passionate artists, but Monet had become a passionate gourmet.

Soze scrutinized his master for a few moments. This was definitely not like him. Where was the long speech with lots of demonstrative gestures and shouting? Where was the passion for training? Where was the spirit which had propelled them around the world in search for only the best pokémon? The honchkrow pondered the point for a moment, whilst he awaited the order to resume training.

Morgan closed his eyes and rubbed them for a few seconds.

"Well, let's stop for now; I'm a little tired and it's nearly lunchtime."

Soze snapped to attention at the word 'tired'. This was completely out of character for his trainer, who'd once gone for three days without sleep when exploring the Whirl Island Caves and appeared to spend every waking minute plotting strategy or helping with the training. Having been one of Morgan's original six pokémon, Soze had been through a lot. He'd never left his trainer's side in seven years, despite being given multiple opportunities (which a lesser pokémon would've taken, as demonstrated by so many former team mates). 'Tired' was not a word Soze would associate his master with. There was something very wrong.

Monet snapped to attention at the word 'lunch'. Food was great; possibly the best thing in the world. Much better than that art stuff his old clansmen talked about.

- Later -

Two years ago, Morgan would've never have seen himself in such a restaurant. He'd have looked longingly at the sign, checked his wallet and realized there was no way he'd afford the bill. And strangely, Morgan couldn't put think of when this had changed. He wasn't earning much more than he had been when he'd started as a specialized tourney fighter and was spending more. Yet the money had piled up. He shrugged; perhaps he was thinking about it too much. He left a small tip on the side of his cup as the waiter approached. On the ground next to his chair, his pokémon were also finishing their meals. For the first time since... sometime in the past that he couldn't remember, Morgan really didn't feel like going back to training and he definitely didn't want to take the four hour flight to Sunnyshore, where his next tournament was. Uncertainly, he decided to wander around town and see the sights. Despite having visited Goldenrod over twenty times, he'd never been to any of the really interesting places. Well, that wasn't completely true. When he first arrived, he'd visited the radio tower for an hour. Couldn't remember it very well, but he definitely had been there. Maybe he'd go back there and-

There was an almighty crash as a pokémon slammed into the dumpster outside the cafe.

Morgan slowly looked up to see what appeared to be an impromptu battle going on. It appeared to be between a rhydon and a clefable, trainers standing back as the two scrapped. Despite the lack of any strategy, the rhydon appeared to be losing. . Morgan rolled his eyes. Typical. A rhydon, whilst not innately weak, commonly belonged to a very specific type of trainer; one who chose his pokémon based on how strong they appeared rather than their ability to perform in battle or how well they fitted in a team. Judging by its trainer's expression; a mixture of shock and anger at the massacre the battle had turned into, Morgan assumed correctly. The rhydon stumbled back as the clefable threw punch after punch, unable to respond to the assault. Probably some sort of humiliation technique, considering how much quicker it would be to simply hit the brute with ice beam or something. Maybe meteor mash.

Despite the large gap in ability between the two pokémon, the clefable's owner grinned as she returned her pokémon and began to gloat haughtily.

"Now, have I proven to you how futile the cruelty you displayed to your pokémon was? Perhaps NOW you'll treat them with the respect and kindness they deserve."

She continued to monologue as her scowling opponent, more than a little humiliated, counted out exactly half his money on hand. Morgan raised an eyebrow and stifled a laugh. He'd heard trainers fresh out of primary school, reciting lines word for word from their favourite cartoon. Occasionally, their idealism was so strong that, even months down the line, they still believed that they could get by with friendship and courage alone. However, he'd never seen a trainer who actually 'lived the dream'. A trainer living out the fantasy presented on TV.

Morgan would've left it there. He'd have gone to Goldenrod Radio Tower, forgotten about the incident and life would've gone on from there. But then the girl said something;

"And I will prove through battle, to anyone who thinks otherwise, that friendship and belief in your pokémon will ALWAYS triumph over torturous training and the pokémon chosen!"

Now Morgan was smiling sinisterly. Not only did he hate alliteration, but he'd been issued a challenge. An obviously rehearsed challenge at that. Morgan didn't consider himself an honourable man, but there were some things you just had to accept. As he rose, the girl was still in the middle of her speech.

"Alright then, I accept your challenge."

She stopped for a moment as her ears informed her brain what had just happened. In response, the girl wheeled around to face him, giving Morgan a chance to take note of her appearance. Mid teens, long blond hair that obviously needed a significant amount of care, slight build, expensive, fashionable clothing which Morgan couldn't care less about, soft facial features which were contorted into a mix of shock and anger. How dare Morgan have the audacity to take up her call!

"WHAT WAS THAT?"

"I'm sure you heard me perfectly well and you can't back down from a challenge you yourself made if you're a trainer."

She paused before regaining her composure, preparing to launch into another speech. However, Morgan intervened.

"Before you give me your little shpeal, let's move somewhere more appropriate."

At this point in time, Morgan could see she was about to really blow her top. Again, Morgan cut her off. Through experience, Morgan had found this the best way of dealing with trainers who appeared to act like his opponent.

"I really don't think you'd want to injure any bystanders; I suggest north of town."

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So... How was that?


End file.
